Neurotic ... manic ... depressed ...
All these words and more conspired in Lissa's mind as she ran through the hallways of St. Vladimir's, her mind aghast at the stares of her fellow Moroi. Medical staff had deemed her insanity worth noticing ... they were going to take her away ... where was Rose when she needed her most?
Shadow-kissed. Spirit filled. These words ran over and over in her mind, sending her troubles miles high. She only desired one thing; the cold blade against her skin to qualm her worrisome soul, the bottomless pit of emotion that ensued as she cut deeper through her royal skin, pools of blood puddling at her feet, running down her arms, staining her royal clothes.
She hated being this person. For all the good that she could do, she couldn't even keep herself alive. And how would she keep out of trouble once she graduated, with others conspiring against her, the whole world against her and Lissa's bond? She was lost. She couldn't translate into words how scared she was for Rose, the dhamphir blood in her basically nailing her to the crucifix. She was dead whether they liked it or not; no training or teachings could save them from the Strigoi.
And for all the Moroi blood and popularity, riches and fame in the world, Rose was still the only person that mattered. The only person who stayed, resolute in their feelings ... everyone else was fake. Everyone else ... only like her when it was situational to. She was nothing without Rose.
But then warm arms embraced her, cradling her shaking frame with strong weathered hands ... it was all gone ... she was with Rose ...